


Sixth Time's the Charm

by FridaysChild



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: 5 Things, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 17:55:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/298471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FridaysChild/pseuds/FridaysChild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Damian hit on Dick and Dick was oblivious and one time it worked. Featuring hormones, fluff, the traditional Batman/Robin breakup fight, Tim being all-knowing, and a terrible superhero name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sixth Time's the Charm

1.

Dick grimaces and presses his hand more firmly against the bleeding gash across his ribs as Damian helps him into the cave. “A five year old could have avoided that,” Damian chides, which Dick knows means he’s worried.

“I’m sure,” he says around gasps of pain. It must have hit a bad spot because damn, it hurts like hell when he moves. It hurts only slightly less when he doesn’t.

Damian gets him sitting down on the med table and then runs to find Alfred. Alfred gets him hooked up to an IV and stitched up, and he’s ordered to stay lying down for an absolute minimum of fifteen minutes, and then to go straight to bed for the night.

Damian leans over him, frowning, and doesn’t quite meet Dick’s eyes. “Grayson, you know I wouldn’t like it if you died, right?”

Dick grins wanly and drags him down, across his chest and above where the stitches are, for a giant bear hug. Damian’s gotten much better in the past few years about expressing affection. “I love you, too, Damian.”

“Leggo, you giant sap,” Damian says, squirming, as his voice is muffled as his face is squashed into Dick’s chest.

 

2.

Damian had always thought that he’d be above being a walking, talking hormone. He was bred to be the ultimate warrior, not a giant horndog like some of Drake’s friends. But puberty’s hit him hard and it’s possibly the most distressing thing that’s ever happened to him.

He spends some time with the Titans, though he feels like an outsider half the time, not the way he’s seen Drake with his friends. If he was looking for a suitable partner, the new Wonder Girl would probably do; she’s got nothing but a lasso and her fists. Carolyn grew up on a ranch and is damn good with the lasso, if her costume is a bit too cowboy inspired for his tastes. Even one of the younger Batgirls might work for him. He knows he will eventually have to think about producing an heir.

When he jerks off he always starts with the intention of thinking about Carolyn, or maybe one of the others. He pictures her daisy dukes, the knot-tied shirt exposing a perfect, tanned stomach, toned legs in cowboy boots. But then he’ll move his hand just right, his train of thought will stutter, and it’s black and blue, the Nightwing outfit Dick still wears occasionally when Batman’s weighing him down too much. Tight black over muscle, the perfect masculine lines of his body, the graceful, fluid movements that exemplify freedom.

He has to bite back Grayson’s name when he comes.

It’s wrong. He was always taught that it’s wrong. There are expectations for him in this life; while his mother and grandfather rarely contact him anymore, he knows what they’d say. He is Bruce’s heir. He will be Batman. He is to have an heir of his own to carry the Wayne name. And okay, he no longer agrees with some of the things his mother taught him, but he’s never had to face up to this particular thing before.

He tries to reassure himself that it’s something about Grayson. He doesn’t get hard thinking about Superman, whom he is assured is the perfect specimen of maleness. He thinks that Iris West is really quite attractive. But he doesn’t obsess over either of them like he does over Grayson. His thoughts probably wander to the man ten times a day - more if he’s away. It’s like seeing him is a goddamn addiction. He’s not pining, exactly, he’s just. Well, it’s understandable that he enjoys Grayson’s company.

Grayson never outright tells him the things he was taught were wrong, though he is expected to follow the family rules, like no killing. Grayson told Damian that he wants him to develop his own moral code, not just do what he’s told. Damian thought it was stupid at first, but now he kind of appreciates it. Grayson always makes him think about the whys behind the rules, so he understands the whys of things.

So - Damian tries to talk himself through it the way Grayson would. Not the part where he finds Grayson in particular attractive, because that would be weird, but his apparent interest in men in general.

Grayson would ask him why some people consider same sex relationships wrong. Because religious texts say so. Because reproduction is important. Because they subvert gender roles. That last gets him off on a secondary mental tangent about whether gender roles are good or necessary, but that’s never an idea he’s held onto terribly strongly, even before the first times various Batgirls made him eat pavement.

He’s pretty sure he knows what Grayson would say about why gay relationships are okay. Love is never wrong. It makes you happy. It gives you something more important than yourself to focus on. Grayson is big on the kind of family he says you build instead of the kind you have by blood.

Damian’s skeptical about whether most relationships - between any combination of sexes - actually involve love. So obviously Grayson’s conceptualization isn’t going to help him here. Damian does think that sex is healthy. It has lots of emotional and physical benefits, and he’d probably be less distracted all the time if he was getting laid.

None of this, he admits, gets him over the knee-jerk idea of the wrongness of it, but he thinks maybe he’ll let the concept percolate in his brain and see what comes out of it.

 

The other bad thing about puberty is that Damian shoots up like a weed. He’s never been short, but as a kid he was fairly lean and compact. He’s hurtling towards his father’s size now, and he hadn’t realized before that growing pains actually happen. He wakes up with leg cramps far too often and he aches all the time, right down to his bones.

Grayson catches him rubbing his calf muscles out one morning. “Growing pains?”

Damian nods. He keeps his face impassive, despite being really uncomfortable, and pulls his toes towards him, getting a good flex.

“Do you want a massage?”

Damian’s brain nearly explodes.“Uh,” he says, as his toes slip a little in his grip. Hell yes, he wants.

Another part of his brain is reminding him that he’s supposed to find the idea repugnant. But his hormones don’t seem to care a whit about his moral debates, so he tells that part of his brain to shut the fuck up, because Grayson’s hands. All over him.

“I would very much enjoy that,” he says, and he’s trying to sound seductive, like it’s innuendo, but it must not work because Grayson just grins, oblivious. Damian gives himself a mental kick, because he’s sure he’s coming off as awkward teenager and not someone Grayson might actually like to have sex with.

“Go hop up on the table, then. Shirt off.” Damian’s remaining brain cells give up the ghost, because Grayson’s hands on his bare skin. He can’t even think anymore, except about that.

Somehow, he manages to get stripped down to his tights and up on the table. Grayson’s first touch on his bare skin, rubbing the back of his neck, sends flaring heat down his spine and it’s only through his iron self-control that he doesn’t come flying off the table.

“That feels really...good,” he manages, and he’s pretty sure he sounds like he’s massively turned on now, but Grayson still doesn’t notice.

“Yeah,” Grayson makes a sympathetic noise. “I didn’t shoot up as much as you but I was kind of a small kid and my early teens were pretty awful. So believe me, I understand.” His hands are working his way down Damian’s back, working out all the kinks and easing the sore spots. It might be the best thing Damian’s ever felt in his life and maybe it makes him a hedonist but he’s starting to think that anything that feels this good can’t be bad. And this isn’t even sex.

Thinking about sex right now is a bad idea, so Damian concentrates very, very hard on building mental blueprints for a new Batmobile in his head. He only half-succeeds, as he keeps having to steer his brain away from thoughts of Grayson sprawled across the Batmobile in his Nightwing costume.

It’s the best kind of torture; Grayson finally stops and Damian fakes sleep, because even if he thought he could move, he doesn’t need Grayson to see that he’s turned on. He moves away quietly after a bit, and Damian picks a moment when he gets absorbed in his work to slink off to the showers and jerk off.

 

3.

There are some things about his mother’s family Damian misses. Sick days are not one of them. His grandfather’s theory was that people don’t stop trying to kill you when you’re sick, so you’d better know how to deal with it.

Grayson has a different theory. He says that Damian’s better off resting so he can get healthy as quickly as possible. Damian suspects he’s just more relaxed, and he’s finding an excuse Damian can accept, but he’s not going to question it.

Grayson likes to fuss over him. Which obviously he doesn’t need. But he supposes it’s kind of nice. Right now he’s got some horrible death flu, which means he’s burning up, he can barely breathe, he aches all over, and he’s dizzy and has trouble concentrating on anything. He’s been down for the count for a couple of days now and he’d probably be bored out of his mind, if he had the energy.

He’s absurdly grateful whenever Grayson comes in the room. “Richard-“ Damian still can’t bring himself to be informal enough to call him by his nickname - “Will you close the blinds?”

“Of course.” Grayson closes them, then comes over to feel his forehead. “Still warm.” He brushes Damian’s hair out of the way and sticks the thermometer in Damian’s ear. Damian bats at him half-heartedly but he’s not up to picking a real fight. “Your fever’s gone down a little. How’re you feeling?”

“Fantastic. I think I’ll go for a jog.”

Grayson ignores him and plucks the damp cloth from the nightstand. He returns with it a moment later and lays it on Damian’s forehead. It’s cool and damp and feels nice against Damian’s heated skin.

“Alfred made you some soup.” He indicates the tray he brought in. “Eat it if you feel up to it. Do you need anything else?”

Damian waves vaguely at a Xerox sitting next to the soup. “I suppose you could read to me. If you wanted.”

Grayson picks up the copies, raises a brow. “The Subjection of Women?”

“Stephanie suggested I read it. And...you know how she gets.”

Grayson laughs, tries to turn it into a cough. “Suggested with a batarang?”

“Something like that, yes. I can handle her, of course, but sometimes it’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

“I have no idea how she always gets her way.”

“Nor do I. It just sort of...happens. Somehow.”

Grayson grins. “That sounds about right.” He picks up the essay and starts reading.

Damian doesn’t retain a whole lot of it, but Grayson’s voice is pleasant and keeps him occupied, so he’s able to enjoy it until the fever takes over again and he finds himself shivering hard, even under the covers.

Grayson makes a sympathetic noise and sets the papers aside, climbing under the covers with him.

“You’re going to catch it,” Damian points out, pushing him.

“Shit happens,” Grayson answers, and wraps himself around Damian. And now he’s close and Damian is reminded of just how stunningly attractive the man is. For some reason he can’t seem to stop staring at Grayson’s eyelashes framing deep blue eyes.

“...You’re really hot, you know,” Damian says after a moment. He blames the fever.

Grayson snickers. “I am, aren’t I?” he answers, clearly not realizing that’s exactly what Damian meant.

“Well, don’t get a big head or anything,” Damian mutters. He finally closes his eyes so he’ll stop staring with giant cow eyes the way Carolyn does at Zac Efron. And that statement right there highlights exactly why it’s embarrassing. So he’s not going to open his eyes, and-

-he falls asleep.

 

4.

A bad fight leaves the Titans mourning Shooting Star and the atmosphere around Titans Tower changes for a long time. Kid Flash is particularly down, and Wonder Girl finally pushes it out of him.

“I loved her. I thought I never had a chance, but when she was...she told me...” Tolly breaks down and Carolyn hugs him.

Damian doesn’t want that to be him.

Dick’s swinging around on the uneven bars in the gym when Damian gets back. “Ri- Dick. A word?”

Dick swings down from the bars and lands a perfect dismount. “What’s up?”

Damian feels stiff. He clasps his hands behind his back. “It occurs to me that I don’t want to have any regrets with regards to certain matters,” he says. “That is, relationships. While our friendship is entirely satisfying to me on an emotional level, I was wondering if- that is-“

“You want some advice on your love life?” Dick asks. “Because dating teammates is always awkward if things go south. Besides, you’re just a kid. You’re not ready for anything serious.”

Damian’s face burns. “I am not a child, Richard.”

Dick raises an eyebrow. It’s a mannerism he picked up from Bruce, though Damian’s fairly sure neither of them realize this. “Who totally blew that drug bust last week?”

Damian feels his face heat further. “Your instructions were unclear. And you blew that takedown the night before! We wouldn’t have even been there if-”

“You had done your job that night.”

Damian fumes. He doesn’t even know why he likes this man, considering he’s infuriating. “I am not incompetent and I am not a child. I’d probably be five times more efficient on my own.”

“You have a lot to learn, Damian. You’re an excellent fighter but you’re still an emotional hothead-“

“I am not emotional-“

“-And you need to grow up. You’re not ready for a serious-“

“If that’s what you think of me-“ Damian’s not sure he’s ever been so angry, though he knows it’s masking something else deep down. He rips off his domino, his cape, his utility belt. “I quit.”

Dick just gives him an ‘oh really’ look, like he doesn’t think Damian’s really going to do it. Damian tosses his outer armor and his gloves to join the pile, leaving him in grey spandex and boots. He sets his jaw and turns on his heel, heading for the manor and away from here.

 

Drake finds him later. He’s sipping a glass of water (he likes to stay hydrated after he’s been expelling excess moisture) and glaring at the wall. Not brooding, though, of course. Dick probably sent him to check in on Damian. Because he thinks Damian is a child.

“All Robins have to leave the nest eventually,” Drake says. “It’s like a rite of passage. Eventually there comes a point when you can’t grow anymore as a sidekick, or grow up anymore when you’re still living at home.”

Damian just rolls his eyes. He admits that Drake shows insight on occasion. This is not one of these times.

“And Dick’s never going to notice you as long as he’s your boss, and you’re his sidekick,” Drake adds. Damian chokes on his water.

“I’m not entirely sure what you’re babbling about, but-“

Drake ignores him. “He actually sent me to talk you out of it, but I think it’s time for a new Robin, don’t you?”

Possession flares in Damian’s chest for a moment. Robin is his. Dick is his. But Drake is right, damn him. He’s more than Richard’s sidekick and he needs to establish himself as such. He wants Dick to see him as an equal.

“I suppose you’re not always completely useless,” he tells Drake.

 

5.

Dick knows that someone’s following him.

He waits until he hits a rooftop that’s a good defensive position and then turns, brandishing a batarang. “I know you’re there.”

There’s a moment and then he hears the thunk of a grapple and a man hauls himself up over the roof, sauntering closer. “Dam- Robin,” Dick says.

“Not Robin any longer.”

“The job’s still yours if you want it.” Dick knows he was unfair to Damian when they’d fought. Maybe he started out as a kid, but he’d grown up, into someone Dick could trust and someone he could rely on.

“No,” Damian says.

“So what do I call you now?”

“Swiftlet.” Damian’s costume is sleek black, reminiscent of Dick’s Nightwing costume, with iridescent green highlights. Damian’s grown a bit since Dick saw him last, mostly broadening and now he’s got to be close to Bruce’s size, though his style of movement is still all his own.

Dick raises an eyebrow, not that Damian can see under the cowl. “Swiftlet?”

“A type of bird that uses echolocation and lives in caves.”

“I see. We’ve been worried about you, you know. Where have you been?”

“Here and there. Monastery in Arizona. Martial arts training center in Japan. A few other places. I sent emails. There was no need to be concerned.”

“It’s different from being able to keep an eye on you. Just because I’d heard from you twelve hours ago doesn’t mean you were fine at that moment.” Dick lets himself smile, just a little. “Did it stop you from worrying about me?”

Damian doesn’t answer, but he does scowl a little at Dick.

The silence stretches and threatens to become awkward. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have chased you off like that. The things I said were wrong.”

Damian shakes his head. “Drake was right - though even a stopped clock... - it was time. I hope that offer to take me back stands even if I act in a more independent capacity.” He looks nervous, and Dick supposes there was a time when he and Bruce wouldn’t have let Damian out on the streets by himself. But that time is past.

“Of course.” He extends his hand for Damian to shake, which he does, and then he smiles, an actual genuine smile.

Dick feels stunned. He never knew that Damian had dimples - not prominent, subtle, but enough to give him an amazing smile.

He pushes whatever feeling is trying to make itself known down ruthlessly. Whatever it is, Dick can’t deal with it right now. “Then welcome to Batman, Incorporated, Swiftlet. I hope you’ll want to work together.”

“I can think of a few things I’d like to do together,” Damian answers, and the way he looks Dick up and down has to be deliberate because he actually moves his head so Dick can tell.

Dick feels nervous for some reason, which is stupid, because Damian’s probably trying to intimidate him by sizing him up. “Like right now, you should prove to me that you haven’t lost it.” Damian flashes a grin, and sprints to the edge of the roof, launching himself out into open air. There’s the sound of a grapple being deployed a moment later and then Dick’s after him, chasing him through the city.

 

6.

For awhile, Damian thought he’d get over it. Having a crush on one’s mentor was understandable, probably even reasonably common. He’d dated a few girls, had a good time with all of them, but he hadn’t found the right person. It wasn’t that he didn’t get along with them - he did. Maybe that was part of the problem. They weren’t people he wanted to build something with, there was no passion. They didn’t make his heart beat faster. He never fought with them because he didn’t care enough to fight. He didn’t - love them. They all sensed his lack of passion eventually and broke it off.

Eventually, sometime after things fell apart, his thoughts would return to Dick.

He’d had to face up to the fact long ago that he found Dick desirable. But he was beginning to realize that it was something more than that.

Dick was the first person to treat Damian as a complete person. To his mother and grandfather, he was the heir and built for only one thing. Half the time he felt like his father saw him as an annoyance, and dangerous. Drake didn’t trust him (and perhaps he’d earned that). Dick made Damian think, define himself, become who he wanted to be and not the person others wanted. Dick made him feel like it was okay to be himself.

Dick made it easy to fall in love with him. What amazes Damian is that anyone ever let Dick go. If Dick were Damian’s -

Well.

He still remembers Tolly’s regret and still doesn’t want it to happen to him, but he knows now that then wasn’t the right time. He’s no longer Dick’s protégé. He’s someone who can watch Dick’s back or be trusted on his own. He can make his own decisions, and Dick will give him advice if asked but doesn’t offer it unsolicited.

Damian thinks maybe now is the right time. He doesn’t know if he stands a chance, doesn’t even know if Dick likes men (though he’s remarkably discreet about all but the most serious of his relationships so that doesn’t say much). But he wants this so bad he can’t leave it hanging in the air any longer. He needs to know, and if Dick breaks his heart, the sooner he can move on.

For Damian’s twenty-first, Dick predictably buys him alcohol. Not that they’d ever kept the liquor cabinet locked or anything, but his father has a pretty strict no-alcohol policy, except on very special occasions, which of course Dick thinks this is.

Damian’s scrupulously followed that rule since drinking to excess doesn’t mesh with his own personality either; but Dick bought it for him, and it’s a special occasion. He only has a few sips of the wine, though, before he sets the glass aside.

“Thanks, but this isn’t what I really wanted,” he says.

“No? Do you know how hard it is to shop for a guy who builds his own Batmobiles?”

“Your Batmobiles,” Damian corrects. “My Swifts.”

“That’s a stupid name.”

“So is Batmobile.”

Dick rolls his eyes. “Fine. What did you want for your big milestone?”

Damian gives Dick a long look, pointed. Dick looks back blankly, which Damian really should have seen coming.

“You,” he finally says, quiet.

Dick stares at him, and it’s obvious that his mind finally went to the correct place but he thinks it’s the wrong place, so Damian leans across the table and kisses him.

Dick starts to respond and then he wrenches away. “You’re drunk.”

“I most certainly am not. I’m not that much of a lightweight.”

“But-“

And maybe it’s not fair because Damian’s been dealing with this for seven years, give or take, and as far as he knows Dick’s playing catch up all at once. But the man is still infuriating. Perversely, it just makes Damian want him more. “I want you. This is not new; I have wanted you long enough to know what I want. I’m not any drunker than you, and therefore you can’t be taking any more advantage of me than I am you. And if you think you might be even a little interested, shut up.” He kisses Dick again.

“You’re young,” Dick manages after a moment.

“Maybe your new superhero name should be Captain Obvious,” Damian drawls. At least it wasn’t “kid” this time. “I am now old enough to drink, smoke, vote, and fight crime if I so choose. Two of those things I do on a regular basis, without parental supervision, and without destroying my world or anyone else’s. For that matter, I’ve had perfectly safe sex with no regrets. Now are you going to stop being chicken and take me to bed?”

There’s a flash in Dick’s eyes and Damian realizes that he is scared of this. Maybe of the things he’s said, or maybe it’s all just excuses because Dick has lost a couple of serious relationships and hasn’t dated much since then.

Damian softens a bit. “This is not a whim, Dick.” He can’t do earnest the way Drake does, so all he can do is honest. “You are _mine_ , and you’re going to have to pry me off with a crowbar if you don’t like that.”

He sees Dick’s eyes glaze and the shudder move through him. He leans in again, slow now, and Dick kisses him back, stands, takes him to bed.

Damian’s not a virgin, but the extent of his experience is a few girls who knew about as much as him. There’s never been any guys and Damian thinks that he’d long ago decided it was going to be Dick or nothing on that front. Never let it be said he didn’t have lofty goals.

Dick is solid weight everywhere, hard lines, and completely human strength, still smaller than Damian but close enough to him that the difference doesn’t matter. He uses lips and tongue to draw this information from Damian, then sets out to emphasize the differences - stubble dragged against skin, hand twisting in just the right way, fingers that know where to touch unerringly. Damian comes apart, shattered, under Dick’s touch, lets Dick put him back together, only to fall again.

Afterwards, Dick curls around him and presses soft kisses to his shoulder. Figures he’d be a cuddler.

“You know, we could have been doing that a lot sooner if one of us wasn’t so pigheaded.”

Dick laughs. “I was holding out for your birthday.”

“Holding out for- oh, bullshit.” The conversation degenerates into a wrestling match and then more kissing and not very much sleep at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Swiftlets also make nests out of spit. I figure Damian's got just enough Typical Boy to enjoy this fact but not so much as to think that making themed weapons would be a good idea.
> 
> Changed the title 12/22 because I didn't like the first one and thought of a better one.


End file.
